The next few weeks were… brutal.
Now that Aslan had found the flame inside him, Kael wasted no time turning his life into a waking nightmare.
"Again."
"Control it."
"Faster."
Kael's voice became a permanent soundtrack to his suffering.
Fire Manipulation
He learned to summon flame with a snap of his fingers. At first, it sputtered and fizzled like a dying candle. By the end of the week, small blue orbs danced across his fingertips.
Heat Resistance
Standing with his hands engulfed in fire for minutes at a time? Pure agony. But slowly, the pain faded. His skin didn't blister. His body adapted.
Balance and Movement
Kael made him sprint across narrow wooden beams over open flames. One misstep? Burned feet. Aslan learned quickly.
Combat Drills
Wooden swords replaced with flame-forged practice weapons. His strikes became sharper, his defense tighter. His body moved like it finally belonged to him.
But…
The harder he trained, the more he realized how far he had to go. His flames flickered under pressure. His control shattered when he got emotional. Kael never let him forget it.
"You're not ready," Kael said after every mistake.
"You can't survive your father like this."
The words stung more than any bruise. But they fueled him.
And Aslan? He didn't back down.
It had been almost a year since the training began.
Aslan wasn't the scrawny, insecure kid from Ember Hollow anymore. His shoulders were broader. His eyes sharper. The flame inside him burned steadier now — a loyal, dangerous companion.
And today?
Kael decided it was time for a real test.
They stood in the same clearing where it all started. The cliffs loomed in the distance. The air was cool, but Aslan's palms burned with quiet flame.
"This isn't a lesson," Kael said, drawing his sword — a real one this time. "This is survival."
Aslan swallowed hard, but didn't back down. "Understood."
The fight started fast.
Kael's blade blurred through the air. Aslan ducked, rolled, summoned flame to his hands. His blue fire lashed out — blocked effortlessly by Kael.
Blows rained down. Aslan blocked some. Dodged others. But Kael's strikes were brutal, relentless, reminding him just how much stronger the old man still was.
Aslan stumbled. His control slipped. His flame sputtered.
"You think your father will go easy on you?" Kael barked, striking again. "You think he cares you're his son?"
Aslan gritted his teeth. His body screamed to quit. His flame dimmed. But then…
His mother's face flashed in his mind.
The laughter of the bullies.
The empty space where a father should've been.
The flame inside him roared to life.
His hands ignited with blue fire, brighter and hotter than before. His footing steadied. His strikes sharpened. He wasn't perfect — far from it — but for the first time…
Kael backed up. Just a step. But it was enough.
The fight ended with Aslan on the ground, panting, aching, but smiling.
Kael stood over him, sheathing his blade.
"You're not ready for him," Kael admitted. "But… you're not helpless anymore."
Aslan wiped blood from his lip, flames dancing along his fingertips. His eyes burned with determination.
"I'll be ready," Aslan whispered. "When the time comes… I'll be ready."